" You are supposed not to steal apples in the neighbors´ garden, you little bandit ! "  Seconds before he fell into unconsciousness, his father´s words flashed into his brain, who had had told the six – year – old  this plain rule of life.

The day Möllemann died was one of the most wonderful in his life. In the final months of his personal and political existence, the former member of the Kohl government ( nicknamed Riesenstaatsmann Mümmelmann, that is superstatesman rabbit ) was haunted by an uncontrollable overflow of revelations related to campaign financing, sleazy campaign activities, money laundering, naughty and dirty behaviour in general. His legal advisor told him that all the criminal proceedings launched against him were going to be annihilated, his opponents sacked and punished, and identified as probably alien subversives. He knew that he could trust the advice of this highly-reputed northern light in the legal skies and his affiliates close to being perfect prophets in the legal Walhalla.

The perfect day for a good jump, he thought....after receiving this endorphine-releasing message, and being a totally committed parachute aficionado he rushed to the airport, embarked on his final flight, and simply enjoyed himself, the world, and everything alltogether.

The sky was marvellously blue, the universe was smiling at him. The air had a silky undefinable clarity and smoothness.

His trusted friends were the first to leave the plane at an altitude of 5000 m. After taking a deep, wonderfully refreshing breath, he had a final look around, spotted two tiny clouds close to the horizon, and jumped off.

He started to fly. His thoughts started to fly either. Zeros, and numbers, and many more zeroes circulated in his head, and while watching the slightly elliptical horizon he started to wonder how high the interest gains of all the black accounts were going to be that the stupid dumbshits had not found.

A wry smile appeared in his face, getting much shinier when he imagined  having a marvellous blowjob  in the presidents ´ office while at the same time signing a handful of  presidential directives, and he started to laugh in a really undefinable way when he looked at the horizon again, enjoyed the absence of gravity and  saw himself in the office of the president of the European Union – having five well-educated and open secretaries available.

This was a moment in life of such extraordinary closeness to heaven that it seemed that the entire universe had united with him, a moment in life to be preserved eternally.

OH NO !

Then, all of a sudden, something was perceived  that was not expected, really.

The parachute could not be opened. The security switch was gone. Several parts seemed to have vanished in the haze. His parachute did not function. Control was gone.....

His entire body convulsed in a ferocious mixture of terrifying obliterating shock,  extreme hopeless anger, total helplessness, useless desperation,  and pure terror.

His heartbeat reached a record-high of 200/minute. Adrenaline in enormous quantities flooded his bloodvessels, and
- getting faster and faster – he felt as if he was a bullet in a rifle after it got fired, engulfed in a tunnel with a black mysterious hole at the end, with a speed increasing dramatically every millisecond.

When he reached the velocity of a small jet, little bomb explosions ( 200 per minute ) flashed through his brain, and stars, and colors, and caleidoscope-like images rushed through his blurred imagination, while it got harder and harder to see anything except swirling clouds, circulating treetops, and towers rotating in a peculiar undescribable fashion.

Then, suddenly,  he saw the apple tree, one of the most irresistible sights of his childhood. It had been  located right  next in the neighbor´s garden, full of  red, sweet, round apples waiting to be stolen.

Why bother, he had thought, climbed up the tree, and filled his pockets as much as he could.

A mockingbird had had arrived, looked at him with distanced curiosity, shaken its head a little in sheer irony, and noticed that the young boy was not really fit enough to undertake the risky venture of climbing up nice-looking apple trees in the neighbor´s garden.

Mrs.Rosendorn, wife of the owner of the invaded territory, had watched him fall off the tree with a mixture of pity, anger, and the will to further punish him.

The nicely trimmed grass had gotten  squeezed a bit too much, a worm killed and the mockingbird shaken its head in total disgust of such an amount of idiocy displayed.

" You damned robber, I get you ", Mrs. Rosendorn had cried out, grabbed him at the shoulders, squeezed his ear, and dragged him back to the place he originally belonged to.

The last thing he perceived was a swirling tree, and his fathers commandments.

What happened next, no one knows. We dare not even imagine.

The mockingbird decided to leave the dreadful place.
 

( Certainly we are not going to believe this story, and will never believe it.)